To be a woman on the secretary of state's security detail, you have to be fast, smart, and tough—and willing to take a bullet, even if you're in heels. Laura Blumenfeld works out with Hillary's Angels

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From the backseat of the secretary of state's limousine, you can hear the ambush before you see it. The crackle of machine-gun fire, boot-steps, shouts. Then you see them through the smoked-glass windows, two men in kaffiyehs running at your car, gripping AK-47s. By the time I grasp that we are under attack, the Diplomatic Security Service agent in charge of the secretary's detail has hurtled from the front of the limousine, over the seat.

I am playing Hillary Clinton during this ambush exercise at a top-secret State Department compound in West Virginia. Simulated AK rounds disable the secretary's motorcade. Agents hustle me from the car: "Ma'am, grab on to my jacket! Go, go, go!!"

They surround me, their ponytails swinging—Brittany, Natasha, Joann, Meghan—closing ranks to form a body bunker. The women—part of Clinton's security detail—stepped into the line of fire. They did it on instinct.

The number of women on the secretary of state's Protective Detail team has been increasing (there are currently 13—about a fifth of the force guarding Clinton), in part because three of the past four secretaries of state have been women. Over several months, I observed them—in the gym, on the firing range, in the mat room decking each other. Their regimen is exhaustive, physically and mentally, with quarterly fitness and weapons-proficiency tests. They rehearse until the choreography of a crisis is etched into their reflexes. They learn how to fire four kinds of guns upside down, do 45 push-ups in two minutes, and jog for blocks alongside rolling motorcades.

The women share a sisterhood of state secrets: The spandex in Banana Republic suits makes for easier scrambling out of SUVs; for holster abrasions, rub cocoa butter into the skin on your hips; if you're in Mexico and can't get to a StairMaster, run up and down the ancient stone steps at the Pyramid of the Sun. In Egypt, one agent explains, where there's no time for bathroom breaks (so you barely drink), you can soothe your parched throat by sucking on cough drops. They are single, funny young women who wake up at 4:30 A.M. to meditate and 20 hours later fall asleep to the Food Network. They splurge on facials. They pack 100-calorie bags of apricots. And they can take down an assailant with one precise strike.

Teresa Momber, 35
Putting on my weapon to go to work is the same as some people putting on high heels and lipstick. We battle through traffic jams, host governments, all for the goal—protecting the secretary. When I was younger, I would exercise to fit into an outfit. Now it's preparing for an emergency: What if the secretary has to be evacuated? We plan every detail of her events: where she's going to sit, what she's going to eat; we even have to screen the flower planters. As agents, we are like wedding planners with guns.

Brittany Kross, 24
We are constantly hyperaware; it's the adrenaline. Waiting for the motorcade to arrive, your heart is pounding like crazy. You have to retrain yourself, the way you think, how you react. We are strong women, type A, but we have to be diplomats, too. In Cambodia, people cut the grass with machetes. There's no way for us to tell everyone, "Hey, don't bring out the machetes."

When you're abroad, there's no time to eat until you're starving, and then you eat complete crap, fast. In Egypt, I was awake for two days straight; I ate a whole pepperoni pizza and regretted it. At home, I like to look at a bowl of fresh fruit, even if I know I'll never be home long enough to eat it.

Didi Nikolov, 27
I played cops and cowboys as a kid. I won a top-shot award in the air force. I absolutely love firing weapons. It's empowering as a woman knowing you can do something as good as—or better than—a man.

When I travel overseas, I can't tell my mom where I'm going. I say, "Watch where the secretary goes. Follow the news, and you'll find me."

Meghan Mulherin, 29
My dad has a world map on the wall in the family room with pins in it, so he can follow me wherever I go. There are those who come to Protective Detail from law enforcement or military, and then there are oddballs like me. I'm a piano player. I'm from St. Louis. I'd never fired a weapon before. I was never in a fight. I'd never left North America. At first the gun feels like a brick on your right side, but I got used to the weight on my hip. When I take it off, it feels like something's missing.

Stacey Berg, 29
A normal person goes into a restaurant and looks at the menu. I see four ceiling sprinklers, six light switches, and that you can exit five different ways.

You have to be ready for an emergency. In Pago Pago, at a ceremony for the secretary, a man dancing with tribal tattoos and a palm-frond skirt suddenly let out a war whoop and lunged toward her. He had a 10-foot pointed pole aimed directly at the secretary. My heart jumped and my stomach dropped to my feet. In that split second, your brain figures out: Is this real? You don't even move. It's more mental than physical. [It was part of a dance.]

Nicole Deal, 33
It's all in the attitude. It's the look: the don't-mess-with-me look. I'm standing post and I'm thinking, I should never have to pull this weapon, but I'm prepared if I have to. That's me, the planner. At the gym, I work on upper-body strength in case I have to pull someone out of danger. When I go on vacation, I send everyone an itinerary. Attached is weather, Google Maps, suggested clothing, and all our events, down to our rest time. When we went to Las Vegas, my friends said, "Hey, where's the room for spontaneity?" I said, "It's in the schedule; three hours planned for fun."

Becky McKnight, 30
I'm 5'3", a lot smaller than the guy agent who's 6'3". I'm worried crowds won't move out of the way for me as quickly—I pull my hair back so people see my earpiece.

With shift work, it's hard to maintain friendships. On a first date, I say, "I'm gone every other week." If they want to stick around, great.

Katie Farrell, 25
Guys can be weird about it. At a Christmas party with friends from home, a guy said, "Are you packing heat?" He was patting me down: "I'm seeing if you're carrying."

In Kiev, the local presidential security kept offering me chairs, trying to get me to sit down. They were shocked to see women do security.

Natasha Diamond, 28
I'm a legacy kid. My dad was on Secretary [George] Shultz's detail. It's exciting to follow in his path. When my dad retired, he gave me his holster and magazine pouch. He said, "I don't need these anymore. Your turn." A lot of people were shocked that I'm on the Detail. They said, "Really? You want to run around carrying a gun?" I said, "Yeah, it's exciting. I live on pressure."

My brother is an agent too. In training, we would shoot next to each other. He's the proud brother, and I'm trying to beat him. When we were in ground-fighting class, he wouldn't want to hurt me, and I'd be like, "This is for the last 20 years. Ha!" After class, the other guys said, "We're not going out with you if you wear a tank top; the waitresses will think we beat you up." I said, "You did beat me up."

I consider myself a girly girl. When I'm off work, I like manicures and pedicures. I like to dress up. I like jewelry. I like shopping.

I was an attorney before. Shooting and tactical driving were really new to me. In Haiti, at the airport, people were standing there staring in awe. First of all, you're a woman, and second of all, you're holding a gun. Jesse Jackson landed. We were trying to get him to the car. He started peeling off money from his wallet. We were holding people back. Later, I was like, Wow, this is so different from my last job!